


All Your Tomorrows Start Here

by honey_wheeler



Series: Bedroom Hymns [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa knows just the position she wishes to try this evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Your Tomorrows Start Here

She knows just the position she wishes to try this evening. All day she’d considered it, feeling her blood heat and her cheeks flush when she imagined the two of them in the position shown in the book, her mouth between his thighs as his would be between hers. That had actually been the first illustration in the book that had caught her interest; by then Jon had used his mouth on her more times than she could count – though he could never do such a thing too much, as far as Sansa is concerned – but she’d never done the same for him. It somehow never occurred to her until she saw that illustration, and now that they’ve spent the last handful of nights trying one position after another, it feels like just the right time to do something truly new.

“On the bed,” she instructs Jon once they’ve finally shed their clothing, after much laughter and many fumbling caresses and more than one stolen kiss, despite Sansa’s attempts to keep them focused. Obediently, Jon climbs atop their bed and sits in the center of the mattress with his legs stretched before him, holding her hand to steady her when she climbs up to balance on her knees beside him. He watches her breasts sway with dark eyes, runs his knuckles along the soft undersides as he pulls her in for another long kiss. Despite knowing he’s only distracting her, she still can’t help tilting her head and opening her mouth to his as she twines her arms about his neck. The hand ghosting softly beneath her breasts drifts low to tuck between her thighs and she makes a squeaking sound into his mouth, drops sideways to sit half across his legs.

“Are we going to try it like this?” he asks, dragging her to sit across his lap fully. He ducks his head to suck hot blooms on her throat, his hand still working between her thighs. Her legs are draped over his lap and onto the mattress, knees primly together, but still she can feel him hard beneath her, nudging her with tempting insistence, and she realizes that it would take little maneuvering for him to be inside her like this. For a moment she’s tempted to do just that – and she mentally catalogs the position to try at some other point – but no, she has a mission and she’ll not be diverted.

“No,” she tells him firmly, drawing his hand away and gasping at the caressing retreat of his fingers. “More the opposite.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost disappointed. She might have been hurt at such a thing once, but now she’s only a bit impatient.

“I would have thought you’d be eager to try new things,” she says, pursing her lips and feeling strangely like Septa Mordane must have when faced with balky pupils.

“I am!” Jon protests, but still a hint of a pout is on his lips, and he ducks his head and peeks up at her from beneath his eyelashes. “It’s just that I like the ones where I can kiss you,” he says sheepishly. And oh, she could hardly let such a statement go _without_ a kiss. She can scarcely breathe when she forces herself to pull away. He tries to follow her, straining towards her mouth, but she refuses to be deterred from her quest.

“Next time,” she says, and lets him kiss her once more before firmly pushing his shoulders back to the bed and settling on her knees beside him. “You’ll enjoy this one, I promise.” He still looks dubious, though, so Sansa decides that the best way to prove her point is with action. 

She’s sure there’s little doubt left in him when she twists so that her knees are at his shoulders with her calves alongside his head and then throws one leg over his face to straddle his mouth. Immediately – as she knew he would – he makes a profoundly happy groan and automatically slides his tongue over her and then into her, finding all the spots he knows will turn her into a quivering wreck. It’s almost enough to distract her from her own goal, but she pulls herself together with a shuddering sigh, and walks herself down his chest and belly with her hands until she’s lying upside down upon him, her mouth hovering over his extremely interested cock.

“Sansa,” he says, breaking off his attentions. “Sansa, what are you-” Any other words he might have said are swallowed up by his strangled moan when she runs her tongue over the length of him, from the underside of the head to the base. His hands are gripping her hips so tightly that she’s sure it will leave bruises, and she smiles. After all that he’s taught her and all the ways he’s shown her to find pleasure, it’s a lovely change to be the one showing him.

“ _Sansa_ ,” he rasps when she slips curious lips around the head of his cock and sucks experimentally, noting that the taste of him is salty and tangy but not at all unpleasant. She sucks again, exploring with her tongue what she’s only touched with her hands, and his head falls back, the gust of his breath feathering over her to make her shiver. “Gods, that’s…you… Sansa, you shouldn’t, oh _gods_ , your… I don’t expect-” Sansa breaks off with an impatient huff, wrapping one hand around the base to hold him steady.

“Don’t you have your own task to be attending?” she asks him tartly, craning her head around in an attempt to see his face. The motion pushes her hips closer to his mouth, and his cock jumps in her hand, the blood thundering beneath his skin feeling as hot as her own. Almost helplessly he buries his face against her once more, opens his mouth wide over her and sucks gently. She quivers and wriggles down onto his tongue, loving the feel of it, loving how much pleasure he gets from pleasuring her. Wanting to give him just as much pleasure in return, she turns her attention back to his cock and slides it into her mouth again. Again he pulls away with a groan of pained bliss.

“How could I possibly concentrate on this when you’re doing _that_?” he demands roughly. Sansa sucks with delicate pressure as she pulls her mouth up the length of him, wanting to smile at the sounds it wrings from his throat. When she pulls off, his cock is wet from her mouth and from his own desire, and she slides her hand up and drags it down again, twisting as she does.

“Try,” she commands him, and takes him in her mouth again.

She sees what he means. The second his tongue slides inside her again, she’s hard pressed to concentrate on what she’s doing, wanting nothing more than to rear back and ride atop his face like some sort of wanton. It’s just that his tongue still feels so very _good_ ; it’s never ceased to surprise her how much bliss his mouth on her can bring. She contents herself with giving in to the instinctive motion that claims her hips, rocking them against his face in little jerks as she loves him with her mouth the way he does her. When he closes his lips around the bud at the top of her cunt, she can’t help giving a deep moan, and given the way he jerks in her mouth and his hands tighten even further, the sound affects him just as much as his answering moan against her cunt affects her. She pushes her mouth down as far as she can manage without choking, instinctively swallows around the hard length of him, and he cries out, his tongue delving deep, his chin sliding wet against her slick flesh. She peaks then, wriggling down onto his face, against his lips and tongue, sucking in time with the throb of her cunt.

The first time is never the last time with Jon, so Sansa doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause. Again his tongue makes her peak, and then again, and only then does he buck his hips up so violently that he lifts them both off the bed, his hands gripping her thighs, as he rasps, “Sansa, please, I’m-”

He spends just as she pulls off him, a bit of his release clinging to her bottom lip as he spills in long, hot pulses over her hand and his belly. He shivers as she clasps him in both hands to wring every last bit of pleasure out of him, feeling her own aftershocks as he laps sweetly and insistently at her cunt. She should roll off him, but unbelievably, tension is gathering in her belly again, and she drops her forehead to the hot, thin skin at the crease of his thigh, her hand a loose cuff around his softening cock as he brings her to yet another release, one that sends shudders through her frame and leaves her trembling and boneless.

“Jon,” she whispers against his thigh, the furring on his skin brushing her lips in a soft tickle. “Gods.”

“Precisely,” he manages, his voice weak and rough. Then his voice grows soft and tender, and she smiles at how lovingly he manages to say, “Come up here, Sansa.”

“Can’t,” she tells his hip. “No bones.” With a pained groan, he manages to tip her to the side and then reverse himself, curling on his side to face her with their knees alternating like clasped fingers. He tucks one hand beneath her cheek and brushes his lips against hers, his touch impossibly tender in contrast to what they just did.

“By the gods, I swear I’ll never object to anything you want to try again,” he says, licking over her lips between the words, giving her the sweetest of kisses.

“That was a good one, wasn’t it?” she asks breathlessly, and he laughs and nods, touching his tongue to the corner of her mouth, sliding one ankle over her calf in a bristly caress. It’s as if he can’t stop touching her, which is just as well, since she never wants him to stop, not ever. “I can’t believe we never thought of it on our own.”

“Let’s pretend we did,” Jon says, pressing his cheek to hers in a gesture curiously intimate for something so simple. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” Sansa can’t help but laugh, feeling so light that she thinks she could float off the bed at any second.

“Deal.”

 

_title from Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman_


End file.
